The Queen's Rambles

The last two days have been so weird around here. Erik was having nightmares in the early morning about a giant slug in our chimney. He was up a few hours, so when he finally went back to sleep he slept hard until 11 am. We had to be at school at 12. It threw my whole day off, mainly because I like to be in a predictable location when he wakes up. We’re in a three story townhouse and if I stray too far and he can’t find me he freaks out.

I wasn’t able to take a shower, either, because he has become an integral part of my showering freedom. Either I set Elsa in her crib and make him do a puzzle and eat his breakfast on her floor or I put Elsa in her excersaucer and turn on a baby movie and have him “watch” her while playing on my computer. I am not comfortable leaving her alone way down in the basement when I am upstairs and she’s old enough now that I don’t feel like he is going to accidentally kill her. So far those two options have worked really well.

This morning I had to resort to having her in the bathroom on the floor while I showered. Problem: She is one tall baby. She can pull up onto the tub edge and starts leaning over and it looks like she’ll flip right over the edge and land in the tub. Not good. Plus she got soaked. Not that she minded. She loves the water. Maybe I’ll have to start putting her in the tub with me while I shower. I know I did that with Erik, but I think he was older. I’m not really sure.

Anyway, all that to say “weird day.” I was off kilter and Elsa’s sleep has been off kilter.

She is in the throes of separation anxiety and won’t let anyone hold her, not even Mike, except for my friend that we see at karate. That’s a start, I guess. It is breaking my heart to listen to her cry and cry and cry when I am not within arm’s reach, but sometimes a mommy has needs to attend to. Poor, sad baby.

Erik’s karate teacher moved to New York so the owner of the place is training a new guy. All the little ninja boys were jumping around saying “can you do this? Can you do this? I bet you can’t do this!” The old teacher never really showed any karate moves, but this new guy? He said “Can you do this?” Then did a high kick way over his head, did a 360 spin and did another high kick over his head. There was a moment of stunned silence before the boys (all ages 4-6) started chattering at once that they COULD do that and they all started jumping around. I think he should do a cool move every session. Not only is it neat to watch, I think it would really motivate the kids and convince them they want to be black belts.

Everything else I want to talk about is too snarky to put in a public blog. And there you have it. The reason blogging is no longer “the thing.” Once you go snarky in public you can’t take it back. People find it. You’re screwed. What you write on the internet is there forever (unless you had a Diary-X). So no snarkiness from me. It would be so much more fun if I could give you the low-down on some things, but if the people ever found out they would be hurt and I would be out a few friends. Dag-nabbit all. I guess gossip is bad, so I should be happy that I’m forced to be a better person.

Why is it my son, my dear sweet son who I love more than anything, makes me want to become a child abuser? I would never hurt him, but man oh man, I see how people with less self-control and more anger issues can start whaling on their kids. He is so sweet, so funny, so charming. But then he decides to push my buttons and he just Will. Not. Stop.

He stands less than an inch away from me and starts jumping up and down and flailing his hands. Or I’m cooking dinner and he decides to try to crawl between my legs. Or he runs up right behind me and yells as loud as he can. Or he finds something to make noise and he does it and does it and does it and does it and does it.

Of course I ask him to stop. Of course I try to distract him. Of course I tell him “You can do that, but only if you go in the dining room.” Of course I tell him that I’m about to get really mad and “remember, you hate it when mommy is really mad?” Of course I give him time outs, warnings, all that super special parental jazz that is supposed to work. But some days he is just determined to make me lash out, I guess. I don’t know. He doesn’t like it when I yell at him. I know he needs and wants attention. Sometimes I feel like he is in my lap more than Elsa is (she is very good at finding a little toy to play with and playing with it for a long, long time. She is not very cuddly). I love him. I want the best for him. When he starts doing that shit I can barely stay my hand from lashing out and whapping him.

I guess that’s what love is? Not beating the tarnation out of him even if I want go nuts? Of course, I’d probably hit him one time then start crying. I can’t stand to see him hurt.

Generally I can be calm, cool and collected until 5 or 5:30, then I am just d-o-n-e and he’s just getting started and Mike won’t be home for hours (sometimes he gets home at 6, but lately it is more like 7) and I have to get dinner cooked and Elsa starts low level fussing and it is not good at all.

Mike might disagree with the above statement. He probably thinks I’m a hideous ogre. By the time he walks in the door at night I’m usually wild-eyed, tensed up, covered in various baby goop, with my hair standing on end, most likely yelling at Erik and making him cry.

Today I tried a new approach and gave Erik a big hug several of the times I wanted to beat him, but that didn’t seem to have much of an effect on anything. I will be very, very glad when the days lengthen and warm up so I can send him outside and he can get rid of some of his energy. If it is at all nice out I bundle Elsa up in her fleece bag thing and we all go out on a walk around the lake, but it was too cold for that today.

The boy just has too much energy. This weekend he kept begging me to take him somewhere with a bunch of other little kids and they would all get in a big circle and fight. He always wants to wrestle and fight, but he doesn’t ever want to be hurt or have his opponent hit him. I think he’d be very surprised by what happens in a real fight. I think he’d be quickly dropping out of the preschool fight club, but that doesn’t stop him from longing for one. What is it with boys and the need to fight and rough house?